Assorted Ouran Shorts
by potionwine
Summary: A collection of Ouran one-shots, various pairings and scenarios. #13: In A World Without A Guide & #14: You Don't Belong Only To Yourself – Everything is Hitsuzen. There is no such thing as coincidence. Parts 3 & 4.
1. Sleep Debt: Kyouya x Kaoru

**Title: **Sleep Debt

**Pairing(s): **Kyouya/Kaoru

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisco and related companies.

**Word count: **578

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**SLEEP DEBT**

What a lot of people don't know about Kyouya is this: for all he is a financial genius, he is perpetually in debt.

Sleep debt, that is.

The other thing plenty of people have misconceptions about is this: sharing a life and a bed with Kyouya does not actually give Kaoru superpowers to tame the Low Blood Pressure Evil Lord.

It is true that Kaoru has more weapons in his arsenal than any other living being to counteract the LBPEL. Said LBPEL also exercises more restraint over his foul early morning temper where Kaoru is involved.

However.

Kaoru's ability to provide _very pleasant mornings_ doesn't mean that Kyouya actually always wants these pleasant mornings – no, he would prefer pleasant afternoons or pleasant nights, thank you very much. Anyone who thinks otherwise clearly has not experienced how tiresome it can be to please one's lover when one is exhausted in body and mind.

It is exacerbated by another little known fact: where the physical aspect of their relationship is concerned, Kaoru gets more because Kyouya knows he needs more. The sliding scale of give-and-take changes according to the subject in question.

Mental stimulation: 50-50.

Control over their accounts: 85-15 to Kyouya.

Design of their living space: 10-90 to Kaoru.

Travel and retreats: 50-50.

Physical intimacy: 45-55 to Kaoru.

So, you see, more often than not, Kaoru has to give his partner time to recharge if he is to continue being demanding in the bedroom; it is a quid pro quo that Kaoru can live with, and Kyouya is very fond of his quid pro quos.

Kaoru is still alive because he has honed his ninja powers instead.

Just yesterday, he became the first person_ ever_ to sneak up on Mori-senpai successfully. It was an accident. Kaoru merely wanted to privately discuss the surprise party for Honey-senpai's upcoming birthday – upon touching Mori-senpai's shoulder lightly, Mori-senpai twitched in shock.

Satoshi made a big deal out of it and Kaoru's name spread like wildfire – in one fell swoop, he has gained the respect of the entire Morinozuka dojo, and their students have been approaching him to beg for lessons on stealth. If the twins' mother is the source of their rambunctiousness, then Kaoru must credit his father for his apparent aptitude for ninjahood.

With utmost gentleness, Kaoru lifts the bedcovers slightly (if Kyouya senses the chill, it's a fail), slips out of bed (if Kyouya feels any jolt of movement, it's a fail), and pads across their 5cm thick carpet to their walk-in wardrobe (any sound above 30 decibels, it's a fail).

He has a bath, styles his hair, changes into an ensemble of white jeans, Comme des Garçon striped shirt, sunshine yellow belt and turquoise blazer, clicks on the Breguet Rêve de Plumes that Kyouya had given him several Christmases ago (yes, it's a ladies' watch but screw it, Kaoru has gorgeous wrists and he rocks the androgynous look) and finally, puts on his fourth finger an understated promise ring.

Rounding the bed quietly, he drops a kiss on the mess of black hair sticking out from the top of the layers of blankets. Kyouya's nose gets cold and he can't stand for any part of his body to be left unshielded if he can help it.

_So cute_, Kaoru thinks, but of course it is suicide to voice it despite his privileged position.

After checking that the alarms are set for the right time, he leaves for the Hitachiin atelier.

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09/04/2012


	2. Haute Couture: Kaoru, Haruhi

**Title: **Haute Couture

**Character(s): **Kaoru, Haruhi

**Pairing(s): **Tamaki/Haruhi

**Rating: **G.

**Disclaimer: **Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisco and related companies.

**Spoilers: **Entire manga

**Word count: **901

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**HAUTE COUTURE**

The first time Fujioka Haruhi wears anything that costs more than a house is on the last day she will be known as Fujioka Haruhi.

Her best friend in the world smiles at her – sweet, indulgent, comforting and slightly exasperated. "Haruhi, come here, don't be shy. I've seen a lot of women's bodies, okay? I have to make sure that the dress hangs properly."

She submits to the designer's will, her heart pounding crazily in her chest as she gingerly bundles the hem of the gown into her arms and walks to him.

Kaoru gasps. "You look a _vision_."

In the full-length mirror, there is a beautiful young woman staring back at her. She recognises herself only by the terrified chocolate eyes.

A laugh rings out behind her. "Oh man. You know Kyouya-senpai has been spending the whole day trying to keep Tono conscious, right? I think Tono's gonna faint at the altar anyway."

Someone giggles nervously – it can't be her, can it? She _never_ laughs like that.

Kaoru zips her up and sews her into the dress ("To ensure it stays up, of course - the bodice is meant to be body-skimming, and the only way to make that perfect is to actually make the dress a _part_ of you").

She keeps her gaze fixed on his reflection in the glass – Kaoru is kneeling at her feet, thread pressed between his lips and needle in his deft fingers. His skill has surpassed what any of them had expected of him, and they had expected a lot indeed.

"Done," he announces, putting his materials away and extending a hand, palm up.

Haruhi looks at it blankly but takes it by instinct.

Kaoru draws her close to himself and begins leading her into a waltz. She follows, too buzzed in her mind to do much else. After a good minute, Kaoru twirls her to a position in front of the mirror again and nods, satisfied.

"I wanted to check the movement of the gown. Of course you're not dancing in this dress, but it's the easiest way to know. How does it feel on you?"

_Amazing._

Haruhi smooths a trembling hand down the gown, feeling like crying. She seeks out Kaoru with her eyes, incapable of speech.

"_This_, Haruhi, is haute couture," Kaoru says smugly. "It's like nothing else on earth, isn't it? One-of-a-kind, like second skin, made exactly to the contours of your body, compensating for all your flaws and enhancing all your strong points."

She shakes her head. The gown is sublime but it is its designer that is causing the lump in her throat.

"Shh, don't." Kaoru hugs her. "I know; you're welcome. I'm glad you like my present – that is all that matters."

"You and Hikaru didn't have to go to such expense," she mumbles.

She will have to change into two more gowns before the day is out – one light and breezy dress for the afternoon reception in the garden, and a dramatic formal gown for the dinner at night. The twins had decided that their wedding gifts to the happy couple would come in the form of clothing, and had divided their responsibilities as such: for the ceremony, gown by Kaoru and tuxedo by Hikaru; for the dinner, gown by Hikaru and tuxedo by Kaoru, with Mei-chan in charge of the afternoon reception.

Both the twins' gowns for her are haute couture, painstakingly designed and made, and Mei-chan had informed her that haute couture is priced at five digits for the simple, casual items like a blouse and upwards of six digits for anything more complex – in Euro and not Yen, of course. In Japanese Yen, it would be well above eight digits. A wedding gown such as this, an original of Hitachiin Haute Couture, would definitely be worth at least €1 million, though Kaoru has persistently kept mum about its actual valuation.

"Don't be a cheapskate, Suou-sama!" Kaoru reprimands, signaling to his makeup team to finish their work. "It's unbefitting of your station!"

Before the lipstick, Kaoru offers several onigiri to her, thoughtful as always. She has to eat, he says, because it will be a long time before either she or Tamaki-senpai will get any proper food and it would be the worst thing to have to go through the wedding ceremony on an empty, grumbling stomach.

As she settles down on the plush sofa, Kaoru goes to let her father and Anne-Sophie-sama into the room. They gush over her excessively and weep even before she has yet to take a step down the aisle.

Haruhi calms them down as best she can, and in the process she feels her breathing even out too. Without doubt, Mori-senpai and Honey-senpai will have gone ahead to sort out any foreseen and unforeseen problems and by now they are probably waiting with the rest of the guests for them to arrive. The best man being who he is, no glitches can possibly occur where the groom's party is concerned. Kaoru is the other highly organised and reliable individual – Haruhi knows he will make everything run smoothly on her side.

When Kaoru's phone rings, she knows what it means: Hikaru is telling them that he is done dressing Tamaki-senpai and the groom's party is on the move.

"All right, Haruhi!" Kaoru laughs, picking up the lipstick, veil and a box of pins, "let's get this show on the road!"

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10/04/2012


	3. Reason in Madness: Honey, entire club

**Title: **Reason in Madness

**Character(s): **Honey, entire club

**Rating:** G.

**Disclaimer:** Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisco and related companies.

**Word count: **791

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**REASON IN MADNESS**

Haninozuka Mitsukuni is looking for a reaction.

It may never eventuate, but of course he knows that the lack of reaction may sometimes _be_ the reaction.

Kyou-chan and Haru-chan smile, Takashi and Kao-chan don't, Hika-chan and Tama-chan simply fall over, pushed to the ground by a staggering blast of emotion.

To translate: Kyou-chan and Takashi knew before today, Haru-chan and Kao-chan didn't, Hika-chan and Tama-chan are just being silly.

"S-senpai," Hika-chan exhorts, "don't make hasty decisions!"

Kyou-chan blinks once slowly, the only rebellious action that defies his efforts to tone down his superiority amongst people he regards as friends – more than friends. _There is nothing hasty about it._

Mitsukuni beams.

"There is nothing hasty about it, Hika-chan," he voices, and Kyou-chan smiles that shadow of a smile again, absently turning back to critiquing Kao-chan's painting.

"H-H-H-H-Honey-senpai," Tama-chan says feebly, reaching out a wobbly hand in his direction, "Honey-senpai, promise you won't abandon us!"

Kao-chan snorts, preparing and mixing the paints into a silver-specked ivory shade for the sun-illuminated castle with a concentration that isn't quite necessary for the task. "Honey-senpai will _always_ love us first."

Ah, Kao-chan has caught on too. Mitsukuni knows what he will see in Kao-chan's eyes if Kao-chan wasn't trying so hard to avoid his gaze: possessiveness and fear, maybe with a dash of faith and that stillness that descends within people when the time comes for them to face something that they've long anticipated and resigned themselves to.

"That sounds harmful to Honey-senpai's marriage instead," Haru-chan says flatly. To him, she sincerely offers her congratulations. One by one, the others follow suit – Tama-chan fairly leaps on him in his enthusiasm and begins spouting all kinds of grand and romantic ideas for the ceremony and etc., ideas that Mitsukuni thinks he really wants to be keeping for his own wedding and not lending them out indiscriminately.

Soon enough Tama-chan will realise his own urgent desire to get married, soon enough Tama-chan will understand that if he asks Haru-chan _right this instant_ – without a ring and without anything else except the strength of his feelings – she'd actually say yes after a great deal of blushing and stammering on both their parts.

But perhaps Tama-chan might never see that Kyou-chan doesn't know what to do with himself without them, without him, without their old club. Perhaps Tama-chan might never know that Kao-chan has already decided for himself that romantic love cannot exist in his future, or that Hika-chan will spend all of his life comparing every one of his girlfriends to Haru-chan.

Perhaps Tama-chan and Haru-chan don't know that if they marry and leave the group first to make their own world, to Kyou-chan and Kao-chan and Hika-chan it will be as tearing off a bandage before a wound has closed, ripping skin and flesh off in a lightning fast movement that gouges a deeper injury than the original.

With his life, Mitsukuni has bought time for his friends.

Clever Kyou-chan will rally quickly and re-learn how to stand after leaning on Tama-chan for so long, and Mitsukuni himself will galvanise his and Takashi's efforts to helping the twins. Together, they can stop their happiness from decaying into a source of pain; together, they can prevent the occurrence of that terrible twisted consequence that only Mitsukuni and Kyou-chan have dared to contemplate.

Sometimes, his juniors seem so _young_ to him that he doesn't know how to describe it. Mitsukuni is not the type of odious person to parade through life believing himself to be mature and world-weary – he hates those pretensions to adulthood with a passion, yet when confronted with his precious clubmates he is suddenly inundated with these… almost-parental thoughts of wanting in equal measure to teach and protect them from the harsh lessons of reality.

Takashi is admittedly better at keeping his cool in this area; he sees as much but worries less. It must be nature, what Hika-chan labels as "Mori-senpai's chillaxed to the max personality". Mitsukuni is aware that he is not chillaxed in the least – privately he knows that many of the adjectives that can be and are used on Kyou-chan also apply to him – he's just better at deflecting attention from it because he isn't opposed to making a fool of himself like Kyou-chan is.

When Kyou-chan comes up to speak words of well-wishes to him, the kouhai dips his head ever so slightly: a recognition, a deference, a tacit expression of thanks.

Mitsukuni laughs and latches onto his arm like a child craning to see something that is blocked from view. "Kyou-chan, Kyou-chan, can you tell me the supplier for the black tea that we drink during club? We're ordering _hundreds_ of cakes for the reception and so we need really – "

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12/04/2012


	4. Lost Art: Kaoru, Kyouya

**Title:** Lost Art

**Character(s): **Kaoru, Kyouya

**Pairing(s): **A hint of something going on

**Rating:** G

**Disclaimer:** Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisco and related companies.

**Word count: **827

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**LOST ART**

The last of the tea saucers is stacked with the rest of the used tableware atop the push trolley that the servants will wheel out to wash later.

The host club president glances around the empty clubroom and sighs, rolling his left shoulder in an attempt to ease the knot in it. Tomorrow morning, he'll have to come in early to put away the washed tableware in the club storeroom and do a stock take of their food supplies. If he remembers right, they are running low on Darjeeling and sugar cubes. Perhaps it might be better to replenish the supplies when club resumes after the break for exams?

Using his knee, he shoves the sofas back into place, picking up random bits of rubbish on the floor as he goes. He peers at the paper scraps to make sure that they aren't important before chucking them in a small plastic bag – one of the notes turns out to be a love confession to a customer of the club, and Kaoru grins to himself before firmly discarding the nefarious thoughts that had crossed his mind.

President now – have reputation to upkeep. Reflection on the club, et cetera.

Whipping out his cell, he rings the customer and makes discreet mention of the note. She asks him if he might retain it and hand it to her the next day – it's only a fragment of lined paper, so clearly she must like this boy. Kaoru agrees easily and files it inside his art diary (a gift from his beloved twin for him to keep the necessary records "without becoming the next Shadow King").

Right. He scans the room once more – all property of the club has been returned to their proper place and the servants are free to come in and do the rest of the cleanup.

With a yawn, Kaoru flicks the lights off and heads to the adjoining bathroom to wash his hands with soap before rifling through the wardrobe to collect his blazer and steal a pair of gloves for his personal use. Picking up his bag, he retrieves the keys and locks up all the side doors.

In the main room, the last rays of evening light are spilling in before the sun dips into the horizon. Kaoru pauses and takes a deep breath, gazing out of the window wistfully. The school grounds can be so lovely and lonely at the same time. Depending on his mood, the stillness may be tranquil or desolate – sometimes, Kaoru perches on the window ledge and daydreams for a while longer before going home.

Not today, he can't.

The weather is freezing and he has to revise for his upcoming finals. If he is going off to art college as planned, then this year – his last year of high school – will also be the last of his academic studies. He has a secret desire to do his best, to push his rankings to the highest it can go as a way of proving his worth to himself – will he get everything that he sets his mind on?

The clink of his keys hitting the bottom of his bag brings him back to the present – he's forgotten his art diary. Blowing his fringe in frustration, he unlocks the clubroom again and goes to the table where he'd left it –

It's not there.

Mildly panicked, Kaoru circles the table and sticks his head under it. Where could it be? It is the single most important item in his possession, as Kyouya-senpai's notebook was his. There's a _world_ of sensitive information contained within its pages; the consequences of losing it doesn't bear thinking about.

It should have been there – it has to be! He distinctly –

Laughter begins to bubble up from the back of his throat.

… _Could it be?_

Into the dim silence, he says, "Welcome home, Kyouya-senpai."

It is met by an answering chuckle.

"Surprise spot check," a cultured voice announces amusedly.

"Lurking in shady corners like that, you can scare people to death."

The darkness melts away, revealing the outline of the ex-vice president with an art diary dangling from his fingers. "You've always enjoyed stories about the school being haunted."

"Believe me, I only cared about the safety of that diary," Kaoru replies dryly.

"Yes," Kyouya-senpai hums, relinquishing it to its rightful owner, "the sources of power invariably become a burden."

"What are you doing back in Japan?" Without a moment's delay, Kaoru stows it in his bag.

"For the weekend," Kyouya-senpai says casually. "I had imagined that there might be people in the country who might have wished to celebrate my birthday with me."

Kaoru feels a slow, warm smile spread across his face. "I'm sure I can arrange something."

"I should hope so. Will it be what I want?"

"If you make it clear what you want, you will get it."

"I see. And have I made myself clear?"

"Crystal," Kaoru whispers back, rich as velvet.

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12/04/2012


	5. Old Married Couple: Tamaki, Kyouya

**Title: **Old Married Couple

**Character(s): **Kyouya, Tamaki

**Pairing(s): **Tamaki/Haruhi

**Rating:** G

**Disclaimer:** Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisco and related companies.

**Word count: **707

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**OLD MARRIED COUPLE**

"No, I will not marry you," Kyouya deadpans when presented with a ring box one fine day.

Tamaki looks at him with wide, uncomprehending eyes before bursting into laughter. He flings himself on Kyouya rapturously, who is forced to catch him awkwardly from his seated position in the high-backed executive roller chair.

"Kaasan! I didn't know you wanted me to propose!"

Kyouya sighs as his coffee mug tumbles over with a loud clink on the glass surface, the last of the cold liquid residue thankfully pooling far away from his important documents and electronic devices. The blond in his arms is too close for comfort, content to rest in his lap and dominate the entirety of his attention.

To think Kyouya had designed his desk such that there should be no space on any corner or edge for anyone to rest their bottom on, regardless of how small said bottom is. Tamaki has worked his way around Kyouya's preventative measures again – comme il faut, then.

Why does Kyouya even bother anymore?

"I have borne you three children yet you have given me no legitimacy," Kyouya informs him without change in inflection, heaving his arms upwards to deposit Tamaki on the floor in an ungainly heap. "With these hands I have raised them since I was sixteen; single-handedly I have managed our family's accounts, put food on the table and kept us from bankruptcy despite your prodigal ways; I have monitored our children's studies and cared for the parents and parents-in-law; truly there is no fate worse than this, to have the father of my children come to me to show me a ring he has bought for another woman."

In quick succession, Tamaki bursts into tears. "Kaaaaaaasaaaaaaaan! You've sacrificed so much, Kaasan! I am ashamed to be in your presence!"

"You should be." Kyouya returns to reviewing the details of the new advertising campaign with a tiny smile. _Ugh, does this blockheaded assistant understand the meaning of 'provide me with a summary'? He is so fired._

Tamaki languishes at his feet quietly, studying the engagement ring as it catches the light – his arms are twined around Kyouya's lower leg and his head rests on Kyouya's thigh.

"Kaasan."

"What?" Kyouya asks absently, fingers blazing across the keyboard to churn out a blistering email to his assistant.

"Kaasan." Hands start to rub his calf gently.

Kyouya turns to him in time to see the kiss pressed to his knee. In reciprocation, he threads his fingers through hair the colour of sunlight and admits softly, "Well, it was my family, too."

Tamaki's eyes sparkle at him.

"And it was a family that you gave to me, terrible husband though you were."

Emitting a sound that's a cross between a whine and a snort, Tamaki grabs the armrests of the chair to raise himself up and gaze at Kyouya seriously. "Was I really that bad?"

Kyouya sighs once more. "I am certain you will be a wonderful husband to Haruhi. That ring, for example, is in accordance with her tastes and not yours and yes, I agree that she will like it; you may proceed with your quest to procure a wife."

"Answer me, Kyouya. Was I really that bad?"

He arches an eyebrow. "What do you want me to say, Tamaki? I have already told you that I believe you will make a good spouse."

"No." Tamaki shakes his head. "Was I a good husband _to you_?"

The words are right on the tip of Kyouya's tongue – he is about to say that they aren't married and have never been, but… that's a complete lie, isn't it?

He laughs dryly, unable to summon a response. Tamaki has that effect on him.

"Kyouya," Tamaki whispers against his lips, "did I make you happy? Was I there for you when you wanted me to be? Did I make you feel like life was worth living?"

Inhaling deeply to stabilize himself, Kyouya closes his eyes.

"Yes."

He clarifies, "On all counts, Tousan."

"I didn't let you down?"

"No."

"It was a good marriage for you, too?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad," Tamaki says with a grin. "No matter what, Kaasan, I always want to be a team with you."

_Me too. Me too, Tousan._

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14/04/2012


	6. Signature Scent: Kaoru

**Title: **Signature Scent

**Character(s): **Kaoru

**Rating:** G.

**Disclaimer:** Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisco and related companies.

**Word count: **688

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**SIGNATURE SCENT**

_The name 'Kaoru', written with the kanji 馨 , means 'fragrance' or 'perfume'._

From the age of five, Hitachiin Kaoru has occasionally accompanied his mother to the laboratories and factories of Hitachiin Parfums where he has observed the creative process and seen with his own eyes the making of perfumes.

While their passions for clothing are at a commensurate level, Kaoru knows that his twin derives more enjoyment from the accessories section – Hikaru likes the tangibility of the jewellery, the belts, the bags; he asks for opportunities to stitch the label onto the insides of a bag, or to try his hand at stonesetting and examine the gems to learn about colour and clarity grades.

Kaoru likes accessories too, but he is captivated by the perfumery.

Perfume, like music, exists in the imagination.

The realm of possibility excites him. By itself, smell (like sound) can evoke certain emotions though it cannot impose any specificity on any individual. Profiling services and bespoke perfumery exist because of this – the scent that a person favours will say something about the person. Adventurous, conservative, sophisticated, clean –

Endless facets that make up the core.

The interpretation of any fragrance is governed by personal taste and life experience. The same scent is received differently by every person; Kaoru and Hikaru are different people who seem to be received in the same way by everyone. Their lives have run entirely parallel and they have always liked and disliked the same things, even if to varying degrees. Always.

For no other reason than the way they _feel_, Kaoru can detest a perfume that Hikaru adores. Within this fact is the power to change a world: Kaoru's feelings make him unique.

One-of-a-kind.

How can Kaoru not be spellbound?

Fashion should not ignore any of the five senses. This is lesson one from their mother. Every member of their family wears privately commissioned scents – secret recipes that remain locked away in their library and passed down through the generations. Their grandfather and father's scents are crafted by their grandmother and mother respectively, carefully formulated every step of the way, a labour of love and devotion, a game of attraction, an appeal to sensuality and mortal instincts.

Following in his mother's footsteps, Kaoru will only create and develop a scent for the person he loves and intends to marry or has married. Of course he makes inputs towards the range of perfumes produced by Hitachiin Parfums – making contributions is not tantamount to dissolving his heart in a liquid pool of essential oils.

To be driven nuts by a lover's scent, to be haunted by it for a lifetime… Kaoru knows himself well enough to foresee the damage it will do to him if the lover is faithless. He is at once difficult and easy to seduce: his demands are exacting and onerous, yet he will sell his soul to the one who meets them, without reservations and without the ability to save himself or to be saved.

Kaoru's signature scent is distinctive, significantly unlike his brother's. He does not wear it often – he loves it too much; it hurts him too much.

Instead, for the vast majority of his years he has spritzed himself with a myriad of perfumes, styling himself after the identity that the fragrances embody and project. At club, he smudges his sexuality with Silver Mountain Water or Millésime Impérial; he ramps up their twincest act by putting on a touch of femininity with Le Parfum de Thérèse or Kelly Calèche while Hikaru wears all the bad boy scents. Ordinarily it's anything goes for Kaoru – men's, women's or unisex, skin scent or high sillage – whether Sartorial or No.5, Héritage or Green Irish Tweed. Sometimes, Kaoru picks scents that he hates – there is no better cloak than that of contradicting himself.

In his dreams, he has met the scent that will enslave him. He knows how the love of his life will smell like when they cross paths, and he knows that when presented with his exclusive composition, this person will cherish it as an exquisite masterpiece.

From that fine day onwards, Kaoru resolves to also wear himself ingenuously.

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22/04/2012


	7. Return on Investment: Kyouya x Kaoru

**Title: **Return on Investment

**Character(s): **Club

**Pairing(s): **Kyouya/Kaoru

**Rating:** G.

**Disclaimer:** Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisco and related companies.

**Word count: **396

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**RETURN ON INVESTMENT**

"Not at all," Kaoru says in a patient voice that one would use on an abnormally dim child. "I don't agree."

The rest of the host club, gathered intimately around a vintage industrial cart that functions as the coffee table in the lounge room, stare at him with various degrees of confusion, horror and amusement.

"Huh?" Hikaru jerks with surprise and spills his latte – it overflows onto the saucer. Apprehensively, he looks between Kyouya and Kaoru. "Did you have a fight or something? Tell us next time, 'cos we don't wanna be caught in the crossfire."

Kyouya sips at his Darjeeling. "In which universe will you find me quarrelling in front of an audience, even if my partner happens to be your twin?"

"Hell I know," Hikaru replies breezily. "I only know that I never want to be present if and when you're pissed off."

"You quarrel with Tamaki-senpai in front of us all the time," Haruhi says under her breath, in between bites of a butter cookie, "Not to mention, you smile even when you're upset so it's not like we can tell."

"What was that, Haruhi?" Kyouya smiles pleasantly at her.

"Nothing!" She blanches and shifts slightly towards Mori.

"Let me get this straight," Hikaru asks his brother skeptically, "you don't think that Kyouya-senpai is basically the best investor alive? Even though I told you last month that I bought shares in Bibliography because you happened to mention that Kyouya-senpai did, and ended up $3.4 million richer? US dollars, not Yen? So who knows how much Kyouya-senpai earned and how much of that money went to you, you completely spoilt rotten idiot?"

"Exactly," Kaoru smirks. "Don't you see?"

"See what?" Tamaki raises his head from his sulky corner, the place he'd fled to earlier when Kyouya declined to take time off work to travel with him.

Kyouya has plenty of investments; Kaoru has need of only one – his lover's famed frugality in finance does not translate to the emotional sphere – or at least, once he commits to anyone whether friend or romantic partner, he's exclusively devoted in the extreme. Like interest that accrues, the return on this investment is staggeringly high, higher than any bank or company can offer, and –

"That makes _me_ the best investor in the whole wide world," Kaoru informs them smugly.

"Very sound logic," Kyouya praises with a low chuckle.

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16/05/2012


	8. The Spectrum of Stupidity: entire club

**Title:** The Spectrum of Stupidity

**Character(s):** Club

**Rating:** G.

**Disclaimer:** Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisco and related companies.

**Spoilers:** Entire manga

**Word count:** 1236

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**THE SPECTRUM OF STUPIDITY**

_(Haruhi's apartment, Boston)_

Tamaki studies the package, head tilted to the side.

He clicks his fingers imperiously. "Hikaru! Kaoru!"

"Yes, sir!" two voices say in unison. The flaps of the cardboard box are peeled away, the large package unwrapped in a matter of seconds to reveal several puzzling planks of wood.

"Ooooh," they marvel collectively.

"Honey-senpai!" Tamaki says, and Honey confirms that Haruhi is doing a group project with her classmates and will not return until the evening.

"Mori-senpai!" Tamaki cries, and Mori dashes off and back in a flash, toolbox in hand.

"Kyouya!" Tamaki commands, and Kyouya picks up a booklet that's resting innocuously on top of a small, white-coloured plank.

"All right, gentlemen! Let's do this thing!"

.

* * *

.

"I see," Kyouya says thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "This instruction manual is rendered entirely in pictorial form, conveniently eliminating the need to translate the assembly instructions into the various native languages of the countries that Ikea operates in. Pity, such a method is not applicable to medicinal products."

"Kyouya-senpai, do you mind? Can you stop plotting for a moment to tell us what the first step is?" Kaoru fiddles with a clear plastic bag and manages to tear a hole in it – a cascade of screws, bolts, nails and tiny wooden cylinders and other bits of unknown purpose rains onto the floor. Tamaki chides him and warns him not to lose any of them, scooping them up frantically with his hands.

"Yeah, Kyouya-senpai," Hikaru agrees, "we have only four hours until Haruhi comes home! This will probably take an eternity to fix – obviously commoners who don't have money have to pay for their products with time!"

Seated comfortably in Haruhi's roller-chair, Honey giggles behind Usa-chan, his legs swinging in a carefree manner.

"Right," Kyouya sighs. "First, we have to lay the long planks of wood side-by-side, flat on the ground – Hikaru, stack the small planks up, they are not needed for now. Mori-senpai, we need screwdrivers and a hammer."

Mori rummages in the toolbox and holds out the requested items to the twins and Tamaki.

Immediately Kyouya says, "No, Tamaki, switch your hammer for Kaoru's screwdriver. Kaoru, find the largest screws, 6 of them, they go into the holes at the four corners and the two in the middle."

"Kyou-chan, lemon juice?"

"Actually, Tamaki, could you hand your screwdriver to Mori-senpai?"

"Waaa! I want to help!"

"Kyouya-senpai, the screws go in slanted and they ruin the wood! Why?!"

"Hikaru, I believe you're meant to pinch the screw with your thumb and index finger to hold it in an upright position."

"Mori-senpai, help!"

"Noooo! Kyouya! I want to help – I have to help! I want to build something for my Haruhi! Let me help!"

.

* * *

.

Very, very flatly, Hikaru remarks, "Kyouya-senpai, your instructions suck."

Kyouya raises a dangerous eyebrow at him.

"You said to screw it into the hole on the right, so I screwed it into the hole on the right! Then you say it's wrong?!"

"You screwed it into the hole on the left."

Hikaru glowers at him in disbelief. "Right! This is the right!"

"Uh, that's your left, Hikaru," Kaoru points out as gently as possible and ducks behind Mori, who is unscrewing the mistake calmly.

"It's Kyouya-senpai's right!"

It is Kyouya's turn to stare at him in disbelief. "I gave my instructions based on _your_ right. Whyever would I direct you from _my_ perspective?"

"How the hell was I supposed to know?! I've been moving around and crossing on both sides of the wood anyway, I don't have a fixed right while Kyouya-senpai hasn't moved at all, have you?! Doesn't it make more sense to use you as a guide?"

"Kyooouuyaaaa! Tell me what to doooooo! At least let me fix the little planks!"

"Honey-senpai, more lemon juice. Ice cold, please, before I lose my temper."

.

* * *

.

"Ten minute break!" Honey announces in his dojo-voice.

Completely worn out, everyone sets their tools down and accepts the sandwiches and juice provided by Honey.

Kyouya had tossed the manual aside in annoyance; Hikaru snatches it to flick through it savagely, trying to figure out their progress; Kaoru leans over his shoulder to look; Tamaki sobs at the unfairness of the ban that Kyouya had slapped on him when he'd broken one of the planks by stepping on it accidentally.

"Why do I have to do this? She's not my girlfriend," Kyouya mutters under his breath, removing his spectacles and letting his head loll on the backrest of his dining chair.

Honey pats one of his knees sympathetically.

"Hikaru, Kaoru." Mori pushes the plate towards them. "Eat first."

"After the stuff that Tono broke, I don't think we can complete it, Kyouya-senpai," Kaoru says, reaching for an egg sandwich.

"Of course not," Kyouya replies snippily. "There aren't any spares provided in the package, are there?"

"What should we do? Buy another one before Haruhi finds out? I'm eating, I'm eating, Mori-senpai! Geez, why don't you make Tono eat too?" Hikaru glances around the room. "Hey, where's Tono?"

Honey gasps with more amusement than the situation warrants. "Tama-chan sneaked off!"

All of them excepting Kyouya (who can't be bothered anymore) fly back to the lounge room to be greeted by a scene of destruction.

.

* * *

.

Unimpressed, Haruhi looks at the sad pile of what was meant to be a chest of drawers.

She looks at them.

And looks at the heap of wood again.

Tamaki is on his knees, arms wrapped around Haruhi's legs and tears soaking into her jeans.

"You have three options," Haruhi says in a frightening tone, "One: buy me a replacement and don't touch it this time, two: buy me another chest of drawers from wherever you want and don't tell me the price, or three, and I like this best: all of you, especially Hikaru and Kaoru, _stop buying me new clothes just because I can dress like a girl now_."

Hikaru and Kaoru start wailing their apologies along with Tamaki, Honey joins in for the fun of it and Mori stands there blankly beside a disgruntled Kyouya.

"As punishment, I'm not making dinner for any of you either." Haruhi spins on her heel and marches out the front door. "I'm going to the supermarket; by the time I come back, that should be gone from the middle of the room."

Tamaki himself collapses into a wreckage at Haruhi's displeasure, and the rest of them try desperately to glue the pieces back together, a task more challenging than assembling furniture.

"Do you really have time for this?" Kyouya asks. "Do you want to risk _further_ displeasure from her by crying uselessly instead of making amends?"

Instantly, Tamaki recovers his energy and jumps up. "You're right, Kyouya! By the time Haruhi comes back, there should be a brand new chest of drawers in her room!"

Dryly, Kaoru cuts in, "That's not what Haruhi – "

"Yes! It must be ornate and roomy, with plenty of space to suit Haruhi's needs! It must be the most beautiful furniture that Haruhi has ever seen! Something that will inspire her to think about how amazing our house will look like in future, something that will make her want that future! Hikaru! Kaoru! Lend me your designer's eyes! We will go to choose a new chest of drawers now! In fact, maybe we should give Haruhi a whole new wardrobe with compartments for everything! Yes! The drawers can match the wardrobe, and – "


	9. Omnia Vincit Amor: Honey x ?

**Title:** Omnia Vincit Amor

**Pairing(s):** Honey/?

**Rating:** G.

**Disclaimer:** Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisco and related companies.

**Word count:** 150

.

* * *

.

**OMNIA VINCIT AMOR**

Not many people have what Mitsukuni has: a faithful companion through life.

For as long as he can remember, they have been together. Mitsukuni has no identity apart from his companion's – he is a short boy, and his companion makes him feel tall, like there is nothing he can't do. They complement each other like strawberries and cream, they were made for each other.

Mitsukuni will never love anyone more than his companion. 'As much as' might be a possibility, but 'more'? No way. Nobody else understands Mitsukuni like this, nobody else completes him.

From across the table, a pair of black beady eyes gazes back at him.

Mitsukuni smiles tenderly. "Do you want some cake?"

This is the first person, the last, the always – the one with whom Mitsukuni's cakes are meant to be shared with.

_The candied lemon cheesecake it is, then._

Mitsukuni cuts a slice and serves it, whispering, "I love you too, Usa-chan."

.

_My OTP. HAHAHAHA._

18/05/2012


	10. The Learned Profession: Takashi x Haruhi

**Title:** The Learned Profession

**Pairing(s):** Takashi/Haruhi

**Rating:** G

**Disclaimer:** Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisco and related companies.

**Word count:** 799

.

* * *

.

**THE LEARNED PROFESSION**

Morinozuka Takashi stumbles home, half-entertaining the enticing idea of collapsing in the courtyard and sleeping till daylight.

Oh, wait. It _is _daylight.

The servants open the main door for him and he lugs himself into the house with herculean effort, relieved to hand over his briefcase and his suit jacket. Loosening his tie, he strides inside while trying to recall the last time he stepped foot into the dojo for kendo practice – three days ago? Four? Takashi is very upset at himself for his lack of discipline. Mitsukuni is able to practise diligently despite the significant workload of running a business; what excuse does Takashi have?

Again the front door swings on its hinges.

"No. If you attempt to train in this state, you'll injure yourself."

Haruhi is silhouetted against the (too bright) sunlight, visibly shaking from exhaustion. She sighs deeply and removes her heels, exchanging them for the house slippers set in front of her by the servants. If Takashi's memory serves, Haruhi had left for the court a day before Takashi himself had left for the law firm. Could it be that Haruhi has not been home in all that time? Not finding the time to spare for martial arts is one thing, but not having time for his _wife_?

Takashi had not thought he could be such a disappointment.

While he has selected the commercial route, practising law in a large firm to gain sufficient experience to practise as an in-house counsel for Mitsukuni one day, Haruhi has chosen to become an associate to one of the most esteemed judges in the country, directly working in chambers and doing court work. Once upon a time, Takashi and Haruhi had the neatest and most uncluttered household of their group of friends – clean and down-to-earth, filled with functional necessities and designed in the highly pleasing style of the Japanese aesthetic with a healthy respect for Ma space.

Now, there are days when their combined law books and legal documents take up the entirety of their enormous study room, leaving them to flounder in a sea of papers. It is thankfully contained within four walls, and that specific area is beginning to resemble the Hitachiin atelier – a disaster zone at odds with the rest of the sprawling mansion. Like the twins, Takashi and Haruhi are hesitant to permit the servants to enter the study to clean it because of the sheer amount of confidential and sensitive information lying around. For example, the two of them are currently collaborating with Kyouya in a venture that has the potential to clinch the position of heir for him. Although Takashi and Haruhi are professionals who are careful with their files and notes, the fact is that these papers need to be stored _somewhere_, and the most important ones may be locked in the safe but one can't ever be too cautious.

Haruhi walks to his side, takes hold of his hand and brings him to their bedroom. Wordlessly, they move through their ablutions with the sole end goal being to fall into bed and sleep.

Neither of them is unduly fussy about their appearances; they are crawling under the covers before Takashi knows it, his eyelids persistently threatening to shut. Too many things are buzzing through his mind still – too many things to do, too many clients to meet and too many cases to process. Since he became a lawyer, it's harder for his mind to settle down – meditation techniques take longer to take effect.

More than anything, though, he's afraid that he isn't giving his wife what she needs. To an extent, they share a mutual understanding of the demands of this profession, but when nobody has much to put into this relationship, what will happen to them in the long term? Thoughts like these plague Takashi, make him wonder if he should have kept silent about his attraction to Haruhi or how he can do better… the problem is that Takashi's methods of caring generally manifest themselves in the manner of a bodyguard or a servant. He is a born protector, born to _give_, and his wife isn't one to take.

Haruhi has never wanted to be served the way that Takashi serves Mitsukuni – dependence is not a trait that she easily accepts in herself and Takashi respects that. He thinks he is quite attentive, but _his_ opinion isn't the one that counts in this situation.

Head on pillow and eyes already closed, Haruhi says, "Court vacation is coming up soon. Do you want to go somewhere, Takashi?"

He'd love to.

Heart filled to the brim, he leans over to press his lips to hers. "Yes. Dinner tomorrow?"

"Ah, are you free? So am I." She smiles at him. "We'll discuss it then."

And he can't help but smile back.


	11. Not Meant to be Anything Else: hosts

**Title:** Not Meant to be Anything Else [1/?]

**Character(s):** Haruhi, Tamaki, Yuzuru, Anne-Sophie + will include the other hosts later on.

**Pairing(s):** hints of Tamaki/Haruhi

**Rating:** T.

**Disclaimer:** Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisco and related companies. Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle & xxxHolic belong to CLAMP and related companies.

**Spoilers:** Almost none for Ouran, quite a fair bit for TRC.

**Word count:** 1793

Because the opening sequence and central concept behind TRC is made of distilled sparkling genius. It's intriguing and exciting and totally gets the heart pumping with expectations, but really to be honest it's because I am obsessed with the idea of the hosts being bound by ~_hitsuzen_~. No, I don't intend to write the full crossover of Ouran/TRC, or this would have been a fic of its own – it's just gonna be enough to introduce everyone in their roles.

If it matters to you, I have read and watched both the manga and anime of TRC and Ouran in full.

.

* * *

.

**NOT MEANT TO BE ANYTHING ELSE**

_"Hitsuzen. A naturally foreordained event. A state in which other outcomes are impossible. A result which can only be obtained by a single causality, and all other causalities would necessarily create different results. So reads the Kodansha Japanese desk dictionary, second edition." ― Ichihara Yuuko, xxxHoLic_

.

In the middle of a desert lies a city bustling with life and good, hardworking folk.

Hooded against the sandy winds and scorching midday sun, a young woman walks back to her little hut with a pouch bag slung over her shoulder, pushing open the door to be greeted by a scene that has remained untouched in her absence. She sets her bag onto the table and lifts up a photo frame.

"I'm home, Okaasan."

A knock sounds at the door. "Yes?" she calls out as she goes to answer it.

Immediately she is attacked by a blast of overenthusiasm that causes her to fall backwards. "Haruhi!" yells a very familiar voice. "Welcome home! How did the excavation go? Were you injured? Did you get sick? Did you make sure to eat properly and get enough sleep?"

Haruhi looks up at her childhood friend. Whether rain or shine, he's always here to greet her whenever she returns home from her archaeological studies. "Yes, it went fine, Prince Tamaki."

Instantly, the prince of the country takes on a displeased frown and sinks into a dramatic sadness. "Polite speech! We've been together for so long, Haruhi – we've played together since we were four! Didn't I say that I am your friend, not your prince?"

"But…" she says, thinking about the grand castle perched on the hill and the King and Queen.

"Tamaki." Bright, insistent eyes stare at her. "Ta-ma-ki."

Uncomfortably, Haruhi shifts to accommodate her friend's weight on her. "Tamaki," she repeats.

Her movement alerts her friend to their position. "I'm sorry! I must be heavy, huh?" Quickly, he scrambles up and extends a hand to her to help her up. "I'm really glad you're here, Haruhi."

Haruhi smiles warmly back at him. "I'm glad to be back, too."

"How long can you stay here this time? Otousan says that many underground chambers have been discovered beneath the ruins by the border. Have they finally yielded some interesting results?"

She nods. "The historians and scholars are extremely excited about it. I just came to get a change of clothes then I'm going back to work tonight."

Tamaki's face goes gloomy; he crouches on the ground with a black aura around him, sulking, "Otousan won't let me go to the ruins with you. He says it's too dangerous."

"Have you been fighting with the King again?" Haruhi sighs patiently. "He's worried about your safety."

"He's being mean!" Tamaki accuses, leaping to his feet. "So many people are working there, and I've been brushing up on my knowledge of runes and hieroglyphs! I know I can help!"

Not in a position to question King Yuzuru's wisdom, Haruhi attempts to console her friend by saying, "I have some shopping to do to get ready for tomorrow's excavation. Want to come with me? We can pick out some food that you like and I'll cook dinner for you."

Tamaki smiles at her in a way that makes her chest feel tight.

Grabbing her hand, he drags her out into the market like they've never been apart for a moment in their lives.

.

* * *

.

Dryly, Haruhi says to a stack of crates, "You snuck out of the castle, didn't you?"

A glint of blond sticks out cautiously. Upon checking that the royal guards have passed by, the huddled figure emerges from its hiding spot and pulls her away. "Otousan thinks that seeing you makes me want to do risky things like joining the excavation team."

"Probably because he's right," Haruhi acknowledges, deadpan.

"Gaahn, Haruhi!" Tamaki shrieks. "Is it so wrong for me to want to do something useful?"

"You _are_ useful here," she tells him, bending down to put several pieces of fruit in a paper bag. "I've heard of the things that you've done and are doing for the people – you are a great prince, Tamaki."

"Yes," agrees the shopkeeper, respect in her tone. "Hearing you play your heavenly music for us in the city square is the highlight of my day, Prince Tamaki."

Surprised and pleased, Tamaki pats the old lady's wrinkled hand kindly. "The love that goes into my music comes from having people like you in my country, Granny."

Charmed, the shopkeeper generously presses a fist-sized fruit into each of their palms and refuses to accept payment. A crowd has begun to form around them – many of the other merchants are offering prime cuts of meat and the best of their produce to their prince, delighted to share everything with him. Moved to tears, Tamaki turns them down again and again, asking them to save the food for themselves and their families.

"There he is!" shouts a gruff voice, interrupting the friendly buzzing chatter. Three royal guards start to shove through the mass of people. "Prince, the King has ordered us to escort you back to the castle!"

Long fingers close over Haruhi's wrist. "Let's go!" Tamaki flees with her in tow – they dart through the stalls and run to the outskirts of the capital before allowing themselves to collapse onto the surface of a large, flat rock, obscured from view by the other taller rocks surrounding it.

After a minute, Haruhi says, "I think we've lost them."

Earnestly, Tamaki prevents her from standing up. "Can we stay here a bit longer? Look, the sunset! Wow, the ruins are beautiful when silhouetted against the light of the sun!"

"It was my late mother's dream to excavate those ruins," Haruhi says reminiscently.

Tamaki laughs with a hint of nervousness. "That was the first time we met, remember? When you and your mother came to the castle to obtain permission to study the ruins."

Haruhi nods. "I'm happy that I'm fulfilling my mother's legacy."

They lapse into silence.

Tamaki turns the fruit over and over, eyes fixed on it. "Recently you're always busy, Haruhi. I wish I could see you more often; I miss spending time with you. Do you miss me when you're working?"

She blinks. "Yes, I do," she answers honestly. "There's nothing I look forward to more than seeing you when I come back home."

He grins with blinding radiance. "You know, Haruhi, I have something I want to tell you."

Quizzically, Haruhi gazes at him.

Very gently, Tamaki says, "Haruhi, I…"

DING. DING. DONG.

The two of them jump in shock at the booming chimes of the castle clock signalling the hour.

"A-Are you all right?" Haruhi asks her friend as they get up and pat down their clothes.

Tamaki pockets the fruit. "Mm hmm. I'm fine. I – "

"Oh no, it's late!" Haruhi cries, collecting her groceries. "We have to rush back! I'll have time to cook, but I don't think I'll be able to have dinner with you. I'm sorry, Tamaki. Come on, I want to at least do what I promised!"

She dashes off. "Tamaki, come on!"

He sprints up to her.

.

* * *

.

Wrapping up the food carefully, she says a regretful goodbye to her friend as she passes it to him. The royal guards are prowling the area and it's time for the prince to sneak back to the castle.

"Do you want me to walk you there?" she asks, calculating if she can make the journey yet be punctual for work.

Tamaki shakes his head, taking the parcel and giving her an unexpected peck on her cheek. "Haruhi, the thing I wanted to tell you… I'll tell you the next time we meet, okay?"

"Huh?" She touches the place where he kissed her, feeling curiously warm and jittery. "Um, yeah."

Slinging his cloak around himself, Tamaki waves at her one last time before exiting her hut and disappearing into the dim twilight.

Haruhi watches him go with an unnaturally fast heartbeat, the presence of a glowing emotion pulsing at her core and spreading out through her body. "It isn't right to have these feelings, is it, Okaasan? Even if we've been friends for all our lives, he's still the prince of this land."

There is no advice for her in the howling winds, and night washes across the sky.

.

* * *

.

Tamaki tiptoes on the polished floor, navigating his way to his room and hoping that he will go unnoticed.

"We know you're there, child," says a sweet, motherly voice.

"You have no subtlety at all, Tamaki," chips in a masculine, provoking voice. "Seeing you try is like watching an elephant dance – entertaining, but also somewhat cringe-worthy."

Springing out from behind the pillar, Tamaki says in annoyance, "I shouldn't have to creep around my own house, Otousan! Okaasan, why do you let Otousan make fun of your son all the time?"

Queen Anne-Sophie laughs under her breath. "Were you at Haruhi-chan's house again?"

"What stupid ideas have you come back with this time?"

Tugging at his hair in irritation, Tamaki yowls incoherently and stomps off.

When the footsteps have faded into the distance, the King heads to the balcony overlooking the kingdom, lost in thought. At last he asks his Queen, "Are we sure that this girl can save our Tamaki? Can't we save our son from the hardships that you foresaw by keeping him away from her instead? Wouldn't that thwart your vision of the future?"

Ruefully, Anne-Sophie goes to her husband and tucks herself into his arms. "Our little prince has a mysterious power. I don't know what it is, exactly, but it is a power that will change the world. Trouble will be drawn to him, and although Tamaki is strong, he cannot stand alone against such adversity. If Haruhi-chan is not by his side, I'm afraid that he is bound to fall to the darkness. Even with Haruhi-chan the odds are overwhelmingly against them."

Yuzuru sighs heavily, resting his chin on her golden head. "I don't know what to do."

"We trust to hope, dear." She reaches up a hand to caress his cheek. "Your great mother, our most powerful high priestess ever, also divined Tamaki's fate long ago. You know her character, Yuzuru – her capability, her strength, her iron will. She would have exhausted her options trying to seek a solution to this problem; she would not have abandoned her grandson and left him without defences."

"I wish she'd told us who these so-called 'allies' are. How are we to receive them if we don't know which are the fated ones who will support Tamaki throughout the ordeal? Where are they going to meet, how many of them are there, are they really trustworthy?"

Anne-Sophie giggles lightly. "Do not let these weigh on your mind, my dear. Their loyalty is Tamaki's to earn. I have no doubt that he is equipped with everything he needs to succeed."

Yuzuru closes his eyes in defeat. "Thankfully our idiot son is so loveable."

The Queen smiles sagely. "There are no coincidences."


	12. Chasing Dreams Without End: hosts

**Title:** Chasing Dreams Without End [2/?]

**Character(s):** Fuyumi, Honey, a Hitachiin twin, Mori and his mother, Yuuko, Watanuki

**Rating:** T.

**Disclaimer:** Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisco and related companies. Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle & xxxHolic belong to CLAMP and related companies.

**Spoilers:** Almost none for Ouran, quite a fair bit for TRC.

**Word count:** 1700

.

* * *

.

**CHASING DREAMS WITHOUT END**

In the dark of the moonless night, a plot is brewing within the corridors of Shirasagi Castle as three brothers manoeuvre for inheritance of the throne to become the next Emperor.

"Is it true?" Princess Fuyumi asks her maidservant. _Is this really so important to them that they've lost all regard for their family?_

She receives a solemn nod in reply.

_Mother, I haven't brought them up well, please forgive me. Give me another chance to fulfil my promise to you._

Sadness in her eyes, Princess Fuyumi says quietly to herself, "At this point, I have no choice."

.

* * *

.

A blond general mounts his warhorse, armour and weapons strapped to his diminutive body.

Every night, he does this.

Every night, he fights in an unwinnable war upon the potholed terrain of the moon, the purpose of which has been diluted by the repetitive, interminable nature of the routine bloodshed. This is the inescapable heritage of the General, born to nobility and made for conquest, conquest and yet more conquest.

There is no joy in this mechanical existence.

All of his family has perished in this pointless quest to win the Moon Castle – so many lives lost based on the unverifiable rumour that the conqueror of the place will be granted any wish, a wish that will not even belong to their family in victory, but to the King of Yama.

The General doesn't know what to do with himself or the dense knot of hatred simmering away inside of him. For him, there is no honour in death on the battlefield, only stupidity. All that is required of him is to be mindless, to train and to fight – already he is invincible and still he grows in power at a shocking rate.

"General Haninozuka, it's time," says the captain of the chariot regiment.

Haninozuka nods once, and the armies are transported to the place that has served as the grave of his family members for too long. He is determined that it will not be his, too.

Tonight, he will choose his own path.

.

* * *

.

High up in the sky, suspended in mid-air as though on angel wings is a palace of immeasurable beauty. Corpses are strewn across the imposing flight of stairs leading to the palace, staining the landscape with blood, dirt and death. Emptiness echoes through the caved-in hallways and fallen statues – there is nothing left in this place.

Save for one person at the pinnacle of the tower of astronomy.

From the depths of the spirit pool of magic mirroring the constellations, a flame-haired magician swims to the surface and emerges with a splash of crystal clear water.

After he clothes himself, he looks back at what he's done. The stars no longer reflect well, disturbed by the presence of a regal Empress lying at the bottom of the pool with arms folded neatly over her abdomen and flower-crowned hair splayed like fibres of silk. Against first impressions, this sleep will not be eternal. She will wake one day, and when she does…

This magician needs to be far, far away.

.

* * *

.

In the once-idyllic land of Suwa, the holy barriers that keep out the ravenous demons are failing.

Screams rend the air as the monsters swarm the land unchecked. The Lord of Suwa and his younger son Satoshi have led their men to war but the strength of the chronically ill Lady of Suwa is waning, and her defence is often the only thing that makes these battles manageable.

The sentient beasts know this, and they are targeting the estate of the ruling family to hunt down the woman who is stubbornly standing her ground and giving her people hope…

And not all hope is lost, because there is a young man guarding the Lady Priestess's prayer chamber – her eldest son Takashi, pride of the Morinozukas, strongest of the clan in mind, body and heart. The favour of the gods rest on her children for they have inherited a little of her spirituality and much of their father's prowess – they respect that which should be respected and Takashi, especially, is immensely wise, capable of restraint and acceptance at the worst of times.

While Satoshi would have chafed at being left behind, Takashi had volunteered to stay, and wait for the monsters to come rather than charge to their location. Outside, he is defending his mother single-handedly, clean movements swifter than lightning, heavy muscle and energetic agility combining to take down all the enemies. His canny assessment has resulted in the decision to protect her as the top priority for a good outcome in this war even if it is painful for him to watch his precious younger brother and his honourable father ride out without him.

Takashi could not have guessed that the threat would come from inside the chamber, not outside.

Deep in prayer for blessings, the Lady does not notice the opening of a portal in the wall before her until it is too late. From the gateway between worlds, a broad, viciously sharp sword sticks through and stabs the priestess with the terrifying finality of a killing blow, witnessed by the eldest son whose supernaturally honed instincts had warned him of the presence of danger.

Enraged and despairing, Takashi crosses the distance from door to his mother in a flash with his sword drawn and dripping with black blood; like her, he is too late to prevent the tragedy. Running to retrieve whatever medicine and supplies are available in the (dead) physician's room, he panics as he attempts in vain to save his mother – he is not educated in this art, and he knows in his heart that it is over.

"Mother," he says, his sight obscured by tears. "Mother."

At the moment when she was mortally wounded, the Lady had relinquished her hold on the barriers, and in a second of ultimate agony she saw her husband fall trying to shield her youngest, then saw her youngest yield to furious recklessness and meet his own doom.

Here, crying in a way that he hasn't since he was a baby, is the only remaining legacy of her family.

Gazing back into her Takashi's eyes tenderly, she touches the tips of her fingers to his cheek, finally understanding the vision that she'd seen shortly after this child had been conceived – he is meant for a destiny that will affect no less than the entirety of the universe, and the universe itself protects him.

She exerts herself by recalling the heirloom of the family back to her from its forsaken position at the borders, trampled underfoot by the murderers of her beloved Akira. The magnificent weapon, a silver sword imbued with the might of a dragon, appears before them and clatters to the ground.

Takashi's whole face changes with the knowledge that all of his family is dead; it scares her, and she experiences a twinge of fear that he may go mad with grief and loneliness, crazed and utterly degenerated from the kind and disciplined boy she had raised. He is angrier than she has ever known him to be, his self-control on the verge of snapping and bristling with the clawing need to strike out.

She will not be there to help him overcome this challenge, the hardest that he's faced to date, and so she must have faith.

Summoning the last of her magic, the dying mother casts a final spell to send her son to another world where an omniscient, immortal witch exists to grant wishes – the Lady does not know what her son will ask for but she knows that this course of action is _right_, for the Witch is the other who has seen Takashi's future, and perhaps they have all been living for the culmination of events on this day.

Takashi opens his mouth in a soundless scream as her magic engulfs him, unwilling to let her die alone and desperately clinging onto her, filial to the end.

.

* * *

.

In another Japan on the front lawn of a quaint house is where the gravelly scream of loss is heard, heralding the arrival of a warrior who has nothing left save the heirloom sword in his white-knuckled grip.

His presence is expected, despite the fact that he'd exploded out of magic rising from the earth unannounced.

"How fitting that you are the first one here, the foundation of the group, their steadfast rock," remarks the Witch, dressed to the nines in purple enchantress's robes.

At her voice, Takashi's head jerks up violently, fire in his eyes. He looks like he's going to attack anything and anyone from the unspeakable anguish that he is visibly experiencing; a bespectacled boy certainly believes that he will, and jumps in front of the Witch in an incredible show of courage… or foolishness, since Takashi so obviously trumps him in physical stature.

And then, when Takashi manages to restrain himself because she is not a demon and has done nothing wrong as far as he is aware, the Witch knows everything there is to know about him.

"Ah, I see that the Lady of Suwa was able to intervene before you could take up that sword to slaughter the monsters," she says with atypical softness, not that Takashi could have known how she is like. "This is Watanuki," – she indicates the boy – "and I am the Dimension Witch, Ichihara Yuuko. Because of time dilation, and because you are in no condition to meet any more people, you are here before the rest of your party. They will be here in two weeks' local time, and you will have to make a decision then. Your mother sent you to me for a reason – "

The poor boy stares at her bleakly, uncomprehending and demanding answers.

" – and there is no such thing as coincidence. Come, I will tell you what you need to know."

She walks up the wooden steps to the house without a backward glance.

Wiping his tears with his sleeves messily, Takashi climbs to his feet and limps after her like an abused stray animal, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

None of his injuries come anywhere close to matching the hollowness in his heart.


	13. In A World Without A Guide: hosts

**Title:** In A World Without A Guide [3/?]

**Character(s):** Tamaki, Haruhi, Anne-Sophie, Yuzuru

**Rating:** T.

**Disclaimer:** Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisco and related companies. Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle & xxxHolic belong to CLAMP and related companies.

**Spoilers:** Almost none for Ouran, quite a fair bit for TRC.

**Word count:** 1819

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* * *

.

**IN A WORLD WITHOUT A GUIDE**

"I wonder if Haruhi is still at work," Prince Tamaki smiles to himself on the balcony, looking into the distance where the ruins are silhouetted against the horizon.

The desert sands are calm in the absence of wind, but the temperature has plummeted considerably. He can't help thinking of his friend, of whether she has brought enough clothing to keep warm and what she is doing at this instant. That is, if she can be called a 'friend' to him, which she can't… not anymore.

"Next time I see Haruhi, I have to tell her that I've fallen in love with her," he says with the absolute determination of a fool, a youth, or royalty – or all three, really – and closes his eyes as though to lock that promise in his head.

Only to open them again at a lovely sound, tingling music that he's never heard before.

Captivated, he leans as far forward as he can towards the origin of this unreal sound that reverberates through his body like a powerful, irresistible charm – the ruins are glowing faintly with something out of this world. Tamaki stares for a moment, feeling drowsier by the second and experiencing a growing awareness that the music is calling out to him, sinking into him to become a part of him in the same way that he sinks into the music whenever he plays an instrument.

Weightlessness comes over him; he is levitated by the haunting spell of the chiming melody in his ears and he thinks he can fly, suspended on the beauty of it –

The fruit from the market drops out of the folds of his cloak and tumbles to the floor, abandoned.

.

* * *

.

Lamp in one hand and translation book in another, Haruhi descends the stairs to one of the larger underground chambers to see if she can begin deciphering any markings that may be present.

The movements of the people on the surface – scholars and heritage-preservers – gradually fade out as she comes into an open area and the light of her lamp spills on a curious symbol etched into the slabs of stone beneath her feet. It isn't one of the recognisable historical symbols of this country or the surrounding countries – not that there are many other settlements in this desert that they reside in, and certainly none as huge or prosperous.

She kneels down and brushes the dirt and dust away with her excavation brushset. Within the wide diameter of the circular room, she unearths a curve here, a curve there – those are_ petals_, Haruhi thinks, and the symbol is a… rose?

The heat stress of the desert is too much for many plants, which definitely includes this particular flower. Carved into the ground, this exquisite rose in full bloom almost looks like a crest of heraldry. Excited, Haruhi picks up her materials to sketch this design in the pages of her personal notes; before she has drawn a single line, she is distracted by the shuffling sound of shoes.

Raising her head, she identifies the newcomer and blinks in surprise.

"Tamaki?" A smile tugs at her lips.

The boy turns to her, eyes glazed but friendly.

"What are you doing here?" she asks. A thought striking her, she says worriedly, "The King will be angry if he knows you defied him."

Tamaki doesn't respond to that, merely kneels down beside her with eyes fixed on the rose with a sense of wonder. Haruhi starts to say something when the entire symbol comes alight, washing her friend in brightness. "Tamaki, what – !"

She is cut off by a quake rumbling through the earth; trained to deal with emergencies, she quickly gathers her things and makes to seize Tamaki's hand to escape to the surface in case the ruins cave in, and grasps only at empty air.

"Tamaki, where are you!" she shouts above the loud grinding of stone. The crest is splitting apart into seven portions and each portion is retracting slowly to leave a gaping hole that appears bottomless.

Backing away from the expanding gulf of nothingness, she searches frantically for him and realises why she had not been able to reach him – he had been _floating_ above the rose, and now he is seemingly lowered into it by an unseen force. From Haruhi's position at the circumference, she cannot stretch across the long radius to catch him at all. "Tamaki!"

Throwing caution to the wind, she jumps into the crater after him.

.

* * *

.

Chaos breaks out amongst the rest of the workers on the ruins when unknown masked figures appear out of nowhere, armed to the hilt and obviously hostile to them. It's unnatural – _magic_ – and none of these ordinary workers are equipped for combat. The people begin to move backwards nervously, clustering together in fear. "What – what are these guys?!"

Most of the shady figures are wearing a glove each with knives attached to it like claws, and their other hand is wielding a deadly weapon – the most quick-witted of the workers scramble for discarded metal poles and assorted tools for defensive purposes.

The shaking is felt all the way up in the palace, and the reigning monarchs dash to the rescue of their people and their son, sensing that the time has come.

.

* * *

.

"Oof!" Haruhi just barely curls into an awkward crouch, ignoring the stinging scrapes caused by the fall. Scanning the chamber wildly, she catches sight of Tamaki lying flat on his back in the centre of the rose symbol – the engraving on the ground is illuminated at the core and Tamaki is somehow fused with it. Strange shapes sprout from his body… it takes Haruhi a while to recognise that they are petals like those of the flower that he is embedded in, and these petals that are made of light are swiftly closing in on her friend, burying him as he submerges into the rock itself!

"What's going on?" she asks, confused and unnerved. "Tamaki, can you hear me? Wake up!"

After testing the boundaries of the symbol to ensure that it isn't hazardous, she hops onto it and hurries to his side to drag him out before he is lost to her. "Tamaki, no!" Jumping as far as she can and dodging the petals, she manages to close her fingers around his wrist, and pulls with all her might.

Tamaki is successfully dislodged, but the momentum flings them across the room in a rolling skid until they slam into the curved stone wall. Horrified, Haruhi observes that her friend is still cradled in a rose that is growing from his back – right in front of her very eyes, the flower breaks up and shatters into hundreds of petal pieces that scatter above her head like a firework, only to vanish before they can touch the floor.

Repeating his name to no avail, she feels the skin beneath her hands go frighteningly cold… lifeless.

There is a lone corridor attached to this chamber. The plate that had retracted must have opened to this room below, and if she remembers correctly, all of the tunnels eventually lead to the main one, which leads outside. He's too heavy for her to carry, not that it's stopping her from trying; mustering every ounce of her strength, she slings him across her back and attempts to haul him out of here to get help.

.

* * *

.

At an intersection of roads, a masked man trips her up and is about to finish her off with one blow – she uses her body to shield Tamaki's, even knowing that it is futile – when King Yuzuru arrives to lop off the man's head with his sword. The masked figure goes down in a crackle of electricity.

"Is – is he not real?" Haruhi gasps. "What is he?"

"Is my son all right?" the King asks curtly, taking on another two comrades of the previous man.

"I – " Haruhi says helplessly, gathering her friend up again. Thankfully, Queen Anne-Sophie rushes onto the scene. "Your Majesty!"

The Queen can't even bring up a tight smile – a true anomaly for a person famed for her radiant amiability. Placing the tips of her slim fingers on her son's forehead, then doing the same towards Haruhi, Queen Anne-Sophie's beautiful face becomes marred by a sorrowful frown. "Oh, my."

King Yuzuru comes round to them, remaining on the lookout for more enemies.

"I have read your memories," the Queen announces. "Light in the form of petals emerged from Tamaki's heart, and they broke up and disappeared, didn't they?"

Haruhi nods, suppressing her panic.

"What does that mean, dear?" Yuzuru asks, more apprehensive than Haruhi has ever known him to be.

Anne-Sophie returns his gaze. "I was afraid of this. Those rose petals were our Tamaki's mind – his essence."

Haruhi gapes.

"The memories that Tamaki had within him, from the time he was born until today… His mind has scattered from him, and the pieces of his essence are no longer in this world."

Yuzuru is similarly fearful and shocked. "What did you say?!"

"That can't be!" Haruhi agrees, willing it to be false. "Then where are they?"

"A body without its mind is no more than an empty vessel." Pained, Anne-Sophie looks at her husband. "If we don't do something, our little prince will be…"

… _Dead?_ Haruhi thinks, going cold herself.

"Isn't there something I can do?" she interjects, foregoing all politeness.

The two royals continue to be locked in a non-verbal exchange that she doesn't – can't – understand.

"There is," Anne-Sophie says firmly.

Yuzuru's shoulders slump a fraction. "Yes, there is something that can be done. Listen to the Queen, Haruhi – our son is in your hands. Protect him with everything you've got! Go!"

Gripping the rod of her priestess's staff, the Queen flicks a lightening spell at Tamaki and orders, "Come, this way!"

Despite Tamaki's height, Haruhi is able to lift him to rest against her chest – as they run away, she can hear the stampede of enemy soldiers flooding the corridor behind them.

.

* * *

.

"Pay attention, Haruhi," Anne-Sophie says urgently when they have put enough distance between them and the pursuers, "I am now going to send you both to a place where someone from another world lives."

The magical circle of the Queen expands beneath Haruhi's feet as she prepares to cast.

"Another world? Who are we meeting?" Haruhi asks, almost overwhelmed by the pounding adrenaline. Tamaki is slightly unwieldy in her arms, but she isn't letting go. "What should I do once we get there?"

"She is the Dimensional Witch," Anne-Sophie instructs, swirling her staff. Unexplained winds blow in the confined space and the world warps. "Please tell her everything that's happened, and ask her how to save our Tamaki! Good luck, children!"

The last thing that Haruhi sees are a pair of concerned eyes; her heart clenches, for they are so much like those of a friend who may never open his eyes again.


	14. You Don't Belong Only To Yourself: hosts

**Title:** You Don't Belong Only To Yourself [4/?]

**Character(s):** a Hitachiin twin, Kyouya, Fuyumi, Akito, Honey

**Rating:** T.

**Disclaimer:** Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisco and related companies. Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle & xxxHolic belong to CLAMP and related companies.

**Spoilers:** Almost none for Ouran, quite a fair bit for TRC.

**Word count:** 2155

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* * *

.

**YOU DON'T BELONG ONLY TO YOURSELF**

With the bottom tip of his staff, the flame-haired magician finishes the final inscription of the notoriously difficult and magic-consuming transportation spell.

He closes his eyes and smiles to himself. _Sweet dreams, Empress Grandmother._

"Well then," – he triggers the runes – "I guess I'm off to see the Witch."

.

* * *

.

"Damn it!" Prince Kyouya curses at his only sister, usually the family member he loves best. She has him mired in an enchantment of her making, and nobody knows why but only the women of his family have ever inherited the magic present in their bloodline. "What do you think you're doing, Fuyumi-neesama?!"

In the empty throne room of Shirasagi Castle, his second eldest brother Akito is beside him, also squirming in vain. "Have you gone mad, Neesama?! Let me go!"

Tellingly, neither of them shout for their father or eldest brother even though those two can override their sister – their father will just think that they deserve it since they'd gotten ensnared in the trap, and their brother will be most delighted at their plight.

"It's not fair!" Prince Akito yells, lurching about violently in an attempt to break the spell-shackles on his limbs. "You're not doing this to Yuuichi-niisama just because he's_ lucky_ enough to be older than you, and it's not fair!"

"Neesama," Kyouya says through gritted teeth, "you have no right to hand the victory to Yuuichi-niisama! You can't decide the heir from some _misguided_," – he contorts his body – "individualistic," – he twists again, harder – "moralistic," – he kicks out in frustration and finds the spell tendrils rapidly coiling around his rebellious ankle – "and _utterly idiotic_ selection criteria! The most talented person should rule the country for the good of the people! You can't do this!"

From her lofty position on top of the dais, Princess Fuyumi gazes at them compassionately. "Is it really for the good of the people?"

Kyouya is in no mood to put up with this nonsense, and apparently, neither is Akito.

"You aren't Mother!" Akito roars, using the most hurtful tactic in their arsenal. "Don't pretend to discipline us so you can act like her!"

Fuyumi is unfazed; she must have known they would say things to wound her. With a gentle sigh, she says, "My dear Akito, getting what you want and being happy are two different things."

"What would you know about it?!" he retaliates spitefully, an undercurrent of misery in his voice.

From the corner of her eye, she notes that their youngest brother is taking advantage of her distraction to surreptitiously scrape away at the restraints. Really, the silly boy thinks everyone around him is stupider than he is. How insulting. "More importantly, what you want and what Father wants are also two different things."

She knows she is right. Years she has watched them, cared for them, done things for them that they will never be able to do for her, like changing nappies and teaching them to walk in the gardens – tasks that she, the Princess, had not been obliged to do but actively wanted to be involved in because she _loves_ them. Fuyumi doesn't need her brothers to repay her anything, but she needs them to be happy in a way that is beyond their comprehension.

It is her hope that unconditional love will not always be beyond their comprehension.

"I am going to send you both to another world." Fuyumi concentrates on her magic, channelling it into the bonds around her brothers to open up a cross-dimensional portal. "You will surely meet many other people there and go on a great adventure."

Alarm flashes across Kyouya's fine features. "No, don't!"

"My my my, my baby brothers are finally venturing out on their own!" She wipes away a few tears that are leaking out. "I will miss you both so much! Our parting is hard on me, yet for your sakes I will endure!"

Akito snorts incredulously even as the floor he's standing on is swallowing him up. "But you're the one who's doing this!"

"If you'll miss us, let us stay beside you! Neesama!"

One prickly, the other glib. Truly, they do not know that they are predictable.

"To you, Akito, I gift you with the reminder that Princesses are often the chosen ones blessed with the most magic in the land," she says cryptically. He will want to come home, and if she says so herself, magic that allows passage through worlds is one of the highest and most challenging forms. This clue will register in Akito's head sooner or later, and he will know to seek out the Princess of the kingdom that he's going to for the return ticket. What he doesn't know is the price that the Princess will demand for the service and how this Princess will change him.

"Stop it, Neesama! You can't get rid of us like common nuisances!"

Fuyumi giggles slyly to herself and dispatches Akito amidst his annoyed and aggrieved howling.

Her brothers do not know it and she has no intention of telling them, but she is capable of such absolute conviction because she has seen what it is that is waiting for them… for Kyouya, there are many trials ahead, and most of them will leave scars that will never fully heal.

She turns to him, torn between the desire to spare him the pain and the vision of the great person that he will become after the ordeal.

"I'll listen to you from now on, Neesama! I'll do what you want!" Kyouya says, clearly desperate and deeming it pointless to hide it. Fuyumi reels a little, her resolve threatening to crumble from the well-aimed hit to her big sister heart – he's _actually_ playing the baby brother card for the first time in nearly two and a half decades!

_Aww. He's so cute when he does that._

Reprimanding herself sternly, she walks to him with her customary grace and lightly skims his cheek with her fingertips. "The freedom to live your life as you please won't come from the throne, my Kyouya. I know you are ambitious, that's why I don't want you to fight for power with everything that you have, only to realise at the end that the power you've earned isn't giving you the freedom that you want."

"Fuyumi-neesama, please!" says the boy who hasn't expressed any humility for years.

Her magic swamps him, ready to take him away. "I will cast another spell on you, first." She makes a circle with her hands, and a protective spell plus a curse becomes branded across the glass planes of his spectacles before they set into transparency.

"What's that?!" By this stage, her brother is properly nervous.

"It is a Shu curse. Every time you tell a lie, your intelligence will decrease."

Appalled beyond speech, he glares at her and resumes his thrashing with newfound ferocity.

"You too will encounter many people, then you will learn the true meaning of power," she says fondly. "All right, please take care of yourself."

When she is left alone in the hall, she dismantles the silencing and diversionary wards and goes off to seek an audience with her father, the Emperor, to tell him that she has had a premonition about trouble at the outermost borders of their vast empire and has taken the initiative of sending the two youngest princes off to do their duty of defending the realm.

Heavens, she has picked up some bad habits from her brothers, hasn't she?

.

* * *

.

The men cheer wildly, drunk on bloodlust and triumph.

Tonight, that long-awaited for moment has happened at last.

_At last._

General Haninozuka is atop the Moon Castle, furled flag in his hand poised to be struck into the dusty soil as proof of their decisive win over the opposing troops. He was a one-man army in the battle, felling foes left right and centre in the most impressive display of Haninozuka formidability. It was a single-minded frenzy unlike any they've seen before – such raw power, such tenacious drive. The men are terrified of him; their respect for him has seeped into their very bones, a soul-deep idolisation that they will never be free of.

Instead of the name of the current King of Yama, they are thundering the name 'Haninozuka' over and over.

There is a part of the General that is crazed like them – more, perhaps, because he is so superior and dominant, and his circumstances are a constant poison that is injected into his ego until it is fit to burst – and this is why he has chosen to do what he will be doing even knowing that it will tear down the venerated name of Haninozuka in one terrible stroke.

At the apex of their rejoicing, Haninozuka shakes out the flag. It catches the wind and billows majestically.

The hush spreads out from the soldiers nearest to him, plunging them into noiseless shock.

Proudly, the insigne of the Haninozuka clan is emblazoned onto what should have been the flag of the King.

_Treason._

Lifting it above his head, the General stabs the pole down to claim the Moon Castle for himself. Commandingly, he declares, "This is my wish, grant it! I ask for purposeful, fulfilling lives for all who have fought in this war and their descendants!"

As soon as he finishes speaking, the Moon itself starts to self-destruct.

The multitudes of men are clamouring and screaming at him all at once – he can't discern what they're trying to say, and some of them are cut off by the activation of the Moon magic that transports them back down to Yama in random groups.

"Haninozuka-sama!" his deputy cries, a hand outstretched. The troops are rallying around the transportation areas to escape the rock avalanche and the cracks that are rapidly becoming yawning chasms.

General Haninozuka doesn't take it. "Go," he says with a relieved smile. "Go, and live a life free from carnage."

He_ really_ hadn't wanted to die here, but maybe he should – it's a better alternative than returning to face public execution for his betrayal. Originally he was going to use the wish to save himself, to find another country that he can settle down in and live in peace. But, _his_ soldiers. People who have fought for him, died for him – he couldn't bring himself to be selfish. Deprived of the option to be ported to a secret faraway place, there's nowhere else he can go and death will result either way. Let history judge him how it will.

He rides away without looking back.

"General! General, no!"

In a matter of minutes, the Moon has disintegrated into large chunks of useless space rock. His troops should be gone by now, safe and sound on home ground. Haninozuka reins in his horse and slows to a trot before hopping off at the spot where Yasuchika had fallen. The grave is unmarked – they all are; to mark them is a luxury denied even generals – but he will never forget the place.

Removing and discarding all of his military gear, Haninozuka kneels down with an air of resignation and fishes in the cloth pouch tied around his waist for a figurine of a baby chick. Handcrafted by their esteemed grandmother and given to them as children, the two Haninozuka boys had exchanged theirs – Yasuchika's chick to him and his rabbit to Yasuchika – as a pact that they would have each other's backs on the battlefield no matter how bad it got.

The day that he'd failed his brother had been his darkest.

His mind made up, Haninozuka uses his bare hands to dig a hole in the earth in order to bury the chick in replacement of the ceremony he could not give his brother.

The sound of hooves makes him whirl around. _What?_

"General!" His deputy chases after him doggedly. "You can't die, General! We owe you so much!"

"Are you going against my direct order to evacuate?" Haninozuka demands of him, straightening up and balling his hands into fists. The beak of the chick pokes into his palm. "I said, go! The portals are closing; there's no time to lose!"

"Exactly, Haninozuka-sama," the deputy says staunchly, still riding hard and fast when he should be easing up – too late, it dawns on Haninozuka what his deputy hopes to do.

He is jerked backwards by the collar – his deputy had seized him while passing by on the horse, and harnessing his speed and his strength, the deputy throws him in the direction of a portal that is five seconds away from going to pieces.

"No!" Haninozuka rails in disbelief as he instinctively somersaults in the air and lands on his feet expertly, involuntarily coming into contact with the portal. On this hunk of rock there are no other portals, he knows this from observing the explosive division of the Moon, and what has his stupid deputy done?!

It activates and whisks him away promptly.


End file.
